


A Hope for Michael

by JeanFi



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanFi/pseuds/JeanFi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has his own ship and making plans for where to go now that he is an outcast to both races.  One prisoner he picks up though stirs something within himself that he never thought he would feel.   For her, she planned to use him of her own single hope and cast him aside just as she had been, but something happened she didn't expect.   Is the tussling more with themselves or each other?   Passionate and crushed by unwanted emotions, will they find their way through this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

SG-A:  Michael’s Hope  
a/n {telepathy/internal thoughts}    
*****************************  
As the footsteps of thirty men on a mission stomp down the hall a voice barks an order, “I don’t want the experiments, only the equipment.”  Frightened, she silently cringes and cowers into her corner.  “I don’t want witnesses!”  And she sees his shadow.  
{Do I fight or do I hide?}  
He stops and turns slowly.  She gasps silently:  Michael.  
He freezes.  He felt her.  A mixture of horrified-admiration and fear when she gaped his name.  He steps forward cautiously.  
{Play dead!}  Another step.  {Oh please let this work.}  
A vicious hand yanks open the door to her cell.  Careful steps approach the crumbled body on the floor in the corner.  Calling over his shoulder to a passing henchman, but not removing his focus from the body, “This one I want.”  
{Damn, I should have fought.  Great!}  silently she curses herself.  
Michael smiles at her thoughts.  The crumbled body can’t see his reaction as she is carried like a sack of potatoes back to the ship.  When the guard leaves, she explores her new cell.  Once again trapped.  The ship’s engines fire up and leave the planet.  
{Damn.  Well no point in playing dead anymore.}  
  
~~~~**~~~~  
A night after an odd meal of strange mash, she tries to sleep.  It’s fitful turning foggy.  
The fog swirls and he walks towards her, “Who are you?”  She doesn’t answer.  His voice drops to a softer warmer tone, “Who are you?”  Yet again she does not answer.  
He stops directly in front of her and raises his palm.  She closes her eyes and resigns herself to death.  The palm moves closer and pulls a hair away from her face.     
  
Gasping, she shoots straight up from her dream.  Quickly checking her surroundings, back in her cell alone, she sighs.  Finally her heart rate calms down. And she feels it.  Turning, she wasn’t alone.  Outside the cell doors, he smiles at her and then walks away.  Terrified to go back to sleep, she shivers back into a ball.  
~~~~**~~~~  
After the third day, her body gives her no choice.  It sleeps.  The dreams bring her back to being a school teacher, but all her students are Wraith.  Turning to the door way, he’s there filling the frame watching her.  
Waking up again, she automatically looks to the cell door. No one.  She sighs heavily and collapses.  
~~~~**~~~  
Fully alert he comes to the cell door again.  This time the voice is a straight conversation.  Not ordering.  Not vicious, but also not soft or sultry either.  “Who are you?”  
“Delilah come to cut your hair!”  she fires and turns her back.  
He roars with laughter but stops instantly when he hears her mental plea:  
{Please, let me go.  Just let me go.}  
“Why?” he asks to both questions.  No response.  
Once again she silently responds in her mind, {I’m no use to you.  Let me go or kill me.}  
“No,” it’s almost a whisper.  Her head drops and silently cries.  He moves on.  
~~*~~  
That night: she sleeps.  He comes kneeling to her side.  Her dreams are fitful and twitching violently again.  He stokes her cheek with a lone joint.  
Walking down the city street she looks into the shop window.  She sees his reflection beside hers.  He smiles.  She doesn’t know what to do.  His reflection backs away leaving her alone.  And she just watches him retreat.  
Softly waking up, it frightens her to see him so close.  So real.  This time his palm presses and caresses her cheek.   
{Shhh, It’s alright.  Rest easy.}  
She heard him inside her head.  Shivering in fear her eyes go wide.  Rolling smoothly to his feet, holds a hand out to her.  Instead of taking it, gets to her own feet.  
“Follow me,” his voice is warm and reassuring.  
Of her own free will, she follows him.  Down a few halls to another room.  The door opens at his command.  Following him inside, she looks at the accomidations of the small room.  A medium size bed with warm comfortable fabrics and soft pillows.  A chest of drawers under a window showing the zooming stars.  He stays at the door letting his body language express her safety.  
“Rest,” he softly orders and backs out of the room.   The door closes.  Alone.  
Turning, she continues to look.  A change of clothes on the bed.  A second room: wash room.  Sinking to the bed, she curls herself around a pillow and drops into a deep and comfortable sleep.  It feels like a cloud of warmth and comfort has enveloped and surround, not allowing fear in.  Finally a normal dream.  
~~~**~~~  
Awakening refresh and relaxed, she showers and changes.  Checking the main door, finds it isn’t locked.  Cautiously, she heads down one hallway not seeing anyone and turns down a second.  But she also realizes quickly she could get lost.  And what good would that do?  Instead, she heads back.  But now she can’t remember which door is hers.  
Cringing in fear, he is coming towards her with a tray of fruit.  She begins to shake.  
He smiles, “It’s okay,” and opens the correct door. Reluctantly, she follows.  
He sets the tray on the foot of the bed.  Toying with a green one he asks again, “Who are you?”  
Bracing herself beside the door, she timidly answers, “Nobody.”  He beams a smile.  
{Stop that!} her heart cries out.  
“Why?” he parries back.  
Staring back ponders, {Did he hear my thoughts?}  
“Yes,” he breathes.  
Pressing herself to the wall as he stands.  He takes a step forward, she tries becoming one with the wall.  {Oh no, not another experiment!}  
This time he soothes back into her thoughts, {No, you are something different.}  
Her hazel eyes lock onto his yellow ones, “What?”  
His hand reaches out and strokes her cheek tenderly, {I don’t know.}  
He’s so close.  She can smell him now.  That same smell… her heart begins racing, {This is his room.}  
The yellow eyes release hers and lead the body out of the room.  The door closes behind his retreating back.  {Thank you?}  
It takes a few moments to wrap her head around everything.  Finally she moves.  In the top drawer of the chest she finds a tablet.  Swiftly she begins typing up a journal and munching on the fruit he brought.  
This time when she beds down, she crawls under the blankets and can smell his power and comfort surrounding her.  And then she begins to realize, just as she is confused about him, he is just as confused about her.  
  
~~**~~~  
Staring out the window she watches the nebula change and swirl.  The door opens again.  “Who are you?”  he asks yet again.  
“I’m nothing.  Just a school teacher captured for torture,” just a statement of fact.   
He steps right up to her and looks deep into her eyes.  This time she is stronger and asks right back  {Who are you?}  
{I don’t know myself}  
It’s her turn to cup a palm to his cheek.  He grasps her wrist, but she doesn’t cringe this time.  Noticing that, he slides his palm over hers and leans into her warm touch.  
{Let me go?}  
{I can’t} With that, tears out of her touch and the room.  
~~*~~  
That night he slips silently back into the room and watches over her while she sleeps.  More than that, watches her dream.  
Back home, she comes into her classroom.  A man with a bouquet of flowers fills her door frame.  Excited she comes to him.  As the flowers lower, it’s Michael.  She isn’t afraid this time.  She embraces and kisses him as if this was normal.  
  
Michael’s hand on her brow is warm, but his arm begins to shake.  Her image effects him badly sending him stumbling from the room.  She awakens in time to see his back disappear.  Now it’s her turn to smile.  
  
~~**~~  
The torture continues.  Each asking the other the same question over and over, never coming to a conclusion.  A warm hand only seems to increase the torture.  
  
One day she comes to him in the lab.  Sitting down, bent over his computer examining his notes, she strides up behind him.  She goes bold and slides her hands over his firm proud shoulders and down his confused chest.  The words whisper in his ear, “Let me go.”  
Instead of a rebuke, he smiles staying focused on his task, “I should say that to you.”  She starts to retreat, but he holds the hands to his chest for a few moments and then lets her retreat.  
  
~~~**~~~~  
Another day comes.  In her gilded cage he approaches.  She barks, “Get out of here!”  
{Where am I?} he probes.  
“NO!” she calls both ways.  
{Where am I?}  He tries again leading.    
She stares him down, {You know.} And then a lit of a smile creases her thoughts as she is beginning to understand. {But where am I?} He tries to block her meaning from his own thoughts.  Reaching out, her fingers softly part the fabric of his shirt so the palm can slide against his bare chest.  His life force.  
{Get OUT!} He calls, but doesn’t move  
Now she knows for sure and uses it against him.  That tone he tried on her so many times now comes back in his face.  In his soul, {Where am I?}  
Oh, now he gets it.  He goes back to why she was so flustered when he arrived today awakening her from a fevered nap.  Sultry, he pushes his chest into her hand, deadly the tone is even more sultry, {Where am I?}  
The game is up.  She tries to use his tone against him once more, {You know.}  
{I just want you to admit it.}  
{You’re in my heart.}  
{So are you.}  
He yanks her hand from his chest and crushes her body to his. Her hands clamp to his jaw crushing their lips together.  The passion is fired.  The kisses are furious.  
{Oh, this is good.} she bites back.  
{I’ve never wanted this before.} He admits.  
{Do you like it?}  Her tongue invades his thoughts.  
His hands clamp to her waist, {I’ve been missing out.}  
Her body curls even closer (if that’s possible) {I want more!}  
Ripping his shirt off, drags her nails down his back.  He cries out.  She smiles.  Just for that, he rips the dress off and gapes.  She launches again backing him to the bed.  The tastes, the bites, the groping go on until she fires another volley at him:  
{Give it to me?}  
{What?  Give you what?}  His brain is swirling in confusion and lust.  
{Seed.  Life}   
Panic grips him to freeze. Taking advantage of his shock, she easily flips him to his back.  Before he even has a chance to argue, he is sheathed and soon screaming in an ecstasy-release he never knew existed.  
Panting he manages to push out with the quell of sanity slowly returning, “Who are you?”  
{Mother of your child}  
His mouth drops open.  Leaping from the bed, snatches her clothes and dashes out into the hallway leaving him naked and confused.  
  
But not for long.  Swiftly recovering, calls the guards to catch her.  He is waiting at the open door when the guards force her back into the room.  He maybe wrapped from the waist down by the sheet (arms crossed over his chest), but she is clutching the dress closed around herself as well.  Shoved in, the door is locked behind her this time.    
Locked in and alone with Michael.  This time he is furious with her.  Backing herself against the wall he stomps forward and slams a fist on each side of her neck.  
{WHO ARE YOU?!} he roars in her mind.  
She covers her ears and whimpers back, {Get out of here.}  
{Why?}  This time he whispers.  He leans in close enough to kiss her and asks, “What do you want from me?”  
Lifting her head she bores her gaze directly into his, “Never.”  He tries to probe her mind again but some how she has managed to hide the truth.  But there, ah, that’s where she was hiding it.  Feeling him getting close, she tries to throw him off again and physically reaches for him.  
He sneers and slams her wrists to the wall.  The look is now murderous figuring he had a spy in his clutches, “You want it, lets do it right.”  
He feels her shutter, but hold her own.  Closing her eyes, she resigns her fate trying to be strong, {It’s no worse than the last place.}  A single tear streaks down her face.  {Except there’s one thing….}  
Now he feels the conflict of emotions.  She is trying to be strong and bold because behind that strong looking wall was nothing but shattered glass.  What was it?  He can feel it, this is no spy, but that is she?  What is going on?  She wants something from him.  Something personal.  What was that work she used?  Softly he pushes the façade of a wall, {Why do you want this seed?}  
The wall is trembling while she tries to snap back on the verge of tears, “Get out of my head!”  
{Why?}  
Feeling her wall is about to crumble and desperate for him not to know an idea strikes her.  The fire is back and she smiles, “One way or another, I’ll get you out.”  And slams her head into the wall.  Hard. Once, twice, three times and she collapses.  If he hadn’t been holding her wrists, she would have sank to the floor.  Instead, he is confused again by her actions.  
Lifting her crumbled body, his own head is swimming.  What is wrong with this female?  She is afraid of him, then nice to him, compassionate, then lustful and needy (practically raping him) and then bolting.  And this exchange just now?  Afraid, no terrified of his potential attack but yet then tries to be forceful herself.  What was wrong with this woman?    
Tucking her into the bed, he curls up next to her and looks over her wound.  Who is more confused about their emotions and reactions: her or himself?  He wants something form her, but what?  What is it he needs from her?  Brushing her hair back, he just stares and ponders.  
  
~~**~~  
Waking up, finds herself on the bed with him caressing her head.  “Hello,” he whispers out loud respecting her wish to stay out of her head.  
“Hello,” she moans.  “Let me go,” she pleas again weakly.  
“No.”  Simple and soft.  
“Why are you keeping me?” the tears leak out.  
Sitting up, turns his back to her.  “I know I have minions here I can control with my power.”  Standing up, putting his hands to his sheeted hips.  Slowly he turns back to face her.  “I’ve never met anyone who can get into my head.  I’ve never met anyone who I could reach but not control.”  
She sits up and rolls to her knees and states the truth, “I scare you.”  
He huffs and leans in, “Ha!  Nothing scares me!”  Leaning in closer, her palm slides to his chest and up over his shoulder.  He smiles, “You want me.”  
She keens, “Yes,” and kisses him with fire.  He lays her back and she tears the sheet away.  
{Why?} he softly probes.  
{No} she blocks.  
He tempts.  He teases.  He tastes.  He caresses.  She is tortured by his touch.  Crooning and keening to his minstrations she almost drops her firewall on her own.  Tempting her with the point of delivery to her wanted desire, he asks again, “Why?”  
Instead of answering she pleads his name.  He gives into her with that, but before he releases, asks again.  She doesn’t answer.  He yanks back spoiling her treasure.  
She screams and tears steam down her face staring at his prize on her belly, not in.    
“Why?”  He asks again.  Venomously, she shakes her head and the tears continue.  He begins again, leaving her crying out his name again.  Once again he grunts the question on his abyss of release.  Once again she doesn’t answer.  He denies her yet again.  
Collapsing at her side, they are both panting.  She cries softly, “Please Michael, just give me what I asked.”  
“Why?” he asks for the umpteenth time, sweat coating them both.  (As a scientist, he’s pretty sure his emission would never be compatible and so that doesn’t bother him.  What bothers him, is her reason and the refusal to tell him.)  
“If I told you, you would never let me go.  No.”  
Curling over her, propped up on his elbows, he stares into her hazel eyes, “Oh well now I have to know.”  
Squirming, she tries to wriggle out from underneath him.  He chuckles and stokes one hand down her side.  “Shh, just rest.’  She tries to struggle again, but with his hips pinning her down, and his palms making those massaging tender strokes.  
  
Giving into the relaxation, she lets HIM rest.  Her own hands come up to caress and soothe his lower back, his sensitive central spine, the nape, and then down again….  His body leans down further allowing her hands to reach around him better.  Just what she wanted.  Placing tasting kisses along his chest, his neck, his ear, his cheek and then his mouth…  She starts it again.  
This time his own defenses are abolished, her touch beyond intoxicating.  He can’t stop her this time as her nails draw blood down his back and her dull teeth dig deep into the ball of his shoulder.  He tries to yank away before it’s too late, but her teeth and claws hang on too tightly.  His cry of release this time more of anger and loss to the battle.  More of him loosing the battle with himself.  He wanted her to have her desire.  He wanted her happy.  Dropping to the bed in pure exhaustion, she curls tighter into him, not allowing the intimate connection to break.  Arms latch onto each other.  She whispers in his hear… the last words he hears as he slips into blackness, “Thank you.”  
  
~~~000~~~  
The rocking of the ship awakens the entwined couple.  Some how she became curled to his back in their sleep.  Stoking his face again, the ship buffets.  His eyes fly open. Leaping from the bed, he swiftly dresses.  From the doorway clasping his overcoat, he pauses to look at her.  He shutters smiling seeing her on his private bed barely covered.  She smiles back and he flees.  
Just as quickly, she leaps to her own feet and into the flight suit.  This time she is successful in making it to the Dart bay.  
  
At the command station, Michael the battle and the Darts being attacked.  One of his Darts breaks from the others and dashes far from the battle.  He curses.  He just knoooooows.  She’s gone.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Michael’s Hope 2  
  
She knows that walk.  Even with the hood, he can not hide that physique.  She knows that pain in her chest, but now feels it somewhere else as well.  She knew she couldn’t hide for ever…. Yet she had to try.  
  
He stops and turns towards the house where she rents a room.  Then he looks up at the second story window.  No, he can’t see her, but still she is frozen in place.  Striding forward in all confidence, he approaches the door, dropping the hood.  Without warning, thrusts the door open easily enough.  Now she moves!  Aiming for the back staircase, she is almost out the back door when an arm snakes out and around her waist.  Hesitantly, forces her hard against his chest.  His mouth lowers to her ear and whispers,  
“It worked,” and fans his hand over their child.  It’s not a touch of anger, more of awe.  Still he is confused to her actions and asks again while caressing their unborn, “Why?”  
  
Dropping her head, lays a hand gently on his, “No.”  
{Who are you?}  This time he begs.  
{Nobody,} she pleas.  He doesn’t move or ask another question.  She tries to pry his hand off, but it only makes him cup the second hand bellow the rounding bulge.  
Nuzzling her nape he tries to get her to acquiesce, “I’ve been searching for months for you.  Please, tell me.”  Her head only shakes sadly, still trying fruitlessly to push the upper hand away.  The child kicks, he strokes back with his thumb to the innocent life.  
{What is your name?}  
{Eve} They both know that was not the name she was given, but what she calls herself now.    
  
Tenderly his hands release the child and turn the mother by her shoulders.  The voice of a commander, a brooding commander, “Are you a spy?”  He waits to feel the truth.  
  
“No,” he can feel the truth to that statement but something held back.  
  
His temper has run out.  This female has torn his world to shreds by making love to him and making him feel emotions he had no idea existed and then ripped them away making him search for her like… like … His eyes turn angry as his grip is painful on her chin making her look right at him, “Why should I not kill you?!”  
  
The tears flow down her cheeks.  She knows he is not really angry at her, but at how he FEELS for her.  Once again pleading for him to give up on her, “Please Michael, let me go.”  
The commander is taking over the hurt entity, “Why should I?!”  
  
She yanks her chin away from his grasp.  Even through his seething, he can see she is not going to run.  Taking a step back, her fists begin to clench.  Her own anger is finally coming out, “You and I are the same!”  
“I don’t think so!” He snorts back.  
Snatching his hand, she slaps it onto the back of her neck, seething, “Feel that!”  He knows that’s where the disabled implant still lies under the skin.  When his eyes register the object, she throws his hand aside and back to her place a few paces from him, “I was captured and tortured by the Wraith.  When they had all their fun, decided to let me go.  Ha!”  Her laugh is anything but amused.  “The bastards even were kind enough to drop me off back at home.  Really?  Really?”  She takes a moment to breathe before continuing.    
  
Michael is silent listening to her story.  This was far more than he was ever able to get from her in little amount of time they had onboard his ship.  He’s hoping that somewhere in this story will be the answer to his own problems.  
  
Eve wraps her arms around her self, “My people wouldn’t take me back.  They called me a Wraith worshiper and shunned me.  Not even my husband whom I knew since childhood.  I was abandoned.  Cast out.  Thrown aside.”  Her body shivers.  Another rueful laugh, “My savior was being captured again by a different hive?  To be fed on and die?  Oh no, nothing so wonderful.  I was a toy.  A mouse for the cat.”  
  
Looking right at him makes her point of where they are alike, “Rejected by my people who were later wiped out.  My soul mate couldn’t even stand the sight of me.  And now, I wasn’t even good enough to fuel the Wraith.  My life was worthless.”  Then she leans in and snaps, “At least the Atlantians were trying to SAVE you!”  She turns her back on him.  The tears should have been gone and over with by now, but her hormones were reeking havoc with the scent of him so close welling them back up.  Knowing exactly what she did to him.  Used him and cast him aside, only to regret it herself.  Eve needed Michael more than she ever realized … until now.  
  
“Why?” he asks softly again.  They both know the fullness of the question: why did she need his seed?  
Softly she whispers to the window, “Life.”  
  
Stepping up behind her, but not touching her, he asks for more information, “What?”  
  
Some how finding the strength to turn, looks into his confused eyes, “You were my last chance of getting a life.  Not just my own, but a reason to survive.  So I would never be alone again.  Now… will you let me go?”  
  
His eyes go wide in pain, “So you want to abandon me too?  Use me and leave?  You are no better than any of them.”  Stepping back in anger, flings a hand at her.  “GO!”  With that walks right out the door not even looking back.  His walk is still bold, commanding and assertive.  People clear a path as he walks through the crowded marketplace.  Only she notices the slightest slump to his shoulders.  
  
His retort was like a slap to the heart.  Reaching, she tries, {I’m sorry}  But the damage was done and the truth lay out there.  Her plans to use him, back fired.  She needed him more than she ever thought.  Maybe it was her brain trying to flee while her heart was trying to cling.  One last look to his back before it makes the turn, the same war he was having within.  He was gone.  
  
Looking down, Eve caresses the child.  Weather it was a fit of passion or love the child was created in a fit of need for them both.  Watching, the Dart rises above the town, it screams away.  The same high pitch scream her heart emits to her brain while the child thrashes in the loss of his father’s touch.  
  
Eve sinks to the bench,  {“You are no better than any of them…”}  his words haunt her.  He was right.  
  
~~~000~~~  
The months pass.  The child grows.  As the time is drawing near, she knows the child is at risk.  How much Wraith DNA will it have?  
  
Moving to a new planet and town again, this time very remote.  And a new name.  Fresh water, Good shelter.  A town within a day’s travel, if she needs it, but far enough away to be a hermit.  
  
Today was one of those days that she needed the town.  A chance to overstock on supplies knowing her time was drawing extremely close.  And then she sees them.  
Why is she afraid?  They don’t know her.  Swiftly gathering her loaded cart, nudges her goat to take it home.  She’s almost made it to her path, when the pains hit.  
Well, that was a lie.  They had been coming and going all day, but this one was different.  This one made her gasp and stumble.  
  
Sheppard saw her.  Tapping Keller, they come closer, “Ma’am, do you need help?”    
Eve shakes her head.  Another pain answers rebuts that answer.  Sheppard takes the goat’s lead, Keller tries to support Eve.  The laboring woman shoves them aside, “Let me go.”  
“We only want to help.  I’m a doctor.”  
Eve sneers in Michael’s defense, “I know exactly who you are: Atlantians!”  
Sheppard tries to ease, “Then you know we come in peace.”  
  
Eve snorts, “Not always.”  But the next pain leaves her no choice but to lean on their support.  Refusing to let Sheppard carry her, and guided by the doctor’s support, Eve makes her way to the cabin with them.  
  
Sheppard takes care of the supplies and cart while Keller helps Eve inside.  Trying as best she can to get answers about family, husband and such, Eve is more resilient:  says nothing.  
The baby arrives before Sheppard has to be embarrassed for intruding.  Keller calls to him with a warried voice.  Eve is adamant, “Give me my son!”    
  
Keller doesn’t, Sheppard arrives.  “Look,” the doctor is surprised and very concerned.  
Once again the protective mother orders, “Give me my son!”  
  
While handing over the infant, Sheppard gives Keller the it can’t be -look.  
Eve clutches the infant to her chest and scoots off the bed.  Keller, still shocked, tries to reason with the woman, “You need to rest.”  
  
Eve digs into her bag at the corner of the room, “I don’t trust you.”  A weapon appears in her hand aimed right at Sheppard, “Back off.”  
Sheppard raises his hands, “Wai-”  Two shots, both Atlantians are stunned and down.  
  
~~~~  
Coming round, Keller and Sheppard find they are tied back to back sitting on the floor.  The sound of a humming voice draws their attention.  Eve is sitting in a rocking chair nursing her son soothing him with her song.  Keller asks in true professional tone, “Are you alright?”  No response.  She tries again, “What is his name?”  
  
Just then, a shadow darkens the doorway.  Eve freezes. “Mickhale.” The voices says in Eve’s native tongue.  Her chin wavers.  The commander ignores the captured soldiers and continues towards his family. Stopping just before them, Eve whispers:  
“I’m so sorry.”  
  
His palm grazes across her cheek, “I know.”  With a touch to his gauntlet, the three of them are gone.  
  
Sheppard asks Keller, “Did I just see Michael?”  
Keller is also shocked, “I thought I was hallucinating.”  
  
~~~~~  
Back aboard the ship, the family beams in.  Scooping Eve and son into his arms, says nothing blocking her probe to his emotions.  Arriving at his room, lays them down.  His voice maybe calm, but it was an order with no compassion, “Rest.”  Turning, leaves her alone, locking the door behind him.  
  
Eve sighs and relaxes curling her son closer.  He’s so small and so delicate.  Blond fuzz and undeveloped marks to his checks, so much like his father.  She ponders (once again) how much of him will be hers.    
  
_Now a new fear, how long will Michael keep them… her?  Curling tighter around her son, afraid to sleep and wake up to empty arms… again.  She has no choice, the body has to recover and craving sleep.  Her dreams are actually memories…_  
  
 _After fleeing his ship in a Dart, she reaches the first habitable planet.  Crashing it into the ocean, swims to shore.  Swiping clothes from the first laundry line she can find, buries the flight suit.  It’s a day’s hike to the first large town._  
 _The local inn keeper has pity on her and trades her maid/cook duties for a room.  It only took a couple cycles of the moon for her to realize her night with Michael had been fruitful.  Excited and yet terrifies, she says nothing._  
  
 _One night, a particularly rowdy group at the inn gets to grouping and a bit more.  When one male corners her behind the bar, she reaches under and pulls out the barkeep’s gun._  
 _“Back off.”  She orders._  
 _Too drunk and too obnoxious to think straight, he cockily approaches again.  She fires.  The room goes quiet.  Even the inn keeper who was serving drinks across the room turns to look in awe._  
  
 _“I’m so sorry,” she tells the proprietor.  His face sags for her, she had every right and need not feel guilty.  Still holding the weapon, she runs out the back door._  
 _And does not stop running until she finds a stargate.  By now, she has a few addresses that are safe.  Well safe enough.  Leaping through two more incase some one is tracking the signals, she finally settles on the third._  
  
 _At the beginning of her third trimester, she leapt again and settled on the planet where she finally gave birth.  All this time she had been doing fine.  Healthy, providing for herself, no Wraith stalking her, no one getting too personal…_  
 _Until Michael showed up.  She could feel the twisting knife in his heart she shove in.  Likewise she felt the two he jammed into hers_.  
  
~~~~  
Michael watched her sleep beside his son recalling his own memories of searching for her.  _Repairing his ship from the attack that let her escape, gave him time to strategize a retaliation.  He really couldn’t afford a spare thought for a crazy female.  But on the other hand, his bed scented by their coupling refused to release her from his heart or elicit dreams.  It was agony.  Even after stripping and burning the linens, it wasn’t enough.  Just laying in the bed and remembering how it felt to hold her warm sleeping form next to his… such comfort, something he had never known._  
  
 _Looking at the dent in the wall where she tried to kill herself rather than let him dive into her mind and heart any further.  This was not chamber of private solitude and rest.  This was a gilded torture chamber of his own creation._  
  
 _Roaring with rage at himself, tore the room apart.  That still did no good.  It was too late the damage had been done. Like a virus, her memory consumed his life._  
 _The woman had challenged his will.  She had touched emotions that he should not have.  She would not leave his thoughts._  
 _He had to have her back.  He had to taste her on lips on his again.  He needed to feed off her challenge of wills.  His body craved her touch like and drug. He needed their intoxication coating him again.  He had to have her back.  What a queen she would make at his side as king._  
  
 _The search began.  Long and hard.  Drove his ship and crew to the brink._  
 _Michael found Eve.  No, them.  A son.  A life.  HIS!  Oh who could he praise?  Right there under his touch a life that they created.  He caresses his gift to the universe.  A miracle that he didn’t even plan or fathom was possible.  He beamed with pride and--_  
  
 _No.  To his horror, she did not want him.  She only wanted…  The evil witch.  What a hypocrite.  After everything she had been through and trying to say they were the same?  But she was no different that any of the rest of them.  Fine!  Good riddance of the witch!  If he could seed one female, he certainly could find another willing to take her place.  If not compliantly than one to unleash his wrath upon!_  
  
 _It was no good.  The moment a new female worshiper was presented before him, naked and ready, he was not.  He was not prepared for his own reaction.  A writhing, crooning, lusting healthy female melting before him… and he couldn’t touch her. His body had no desire to perform.  She disgusted his very thoughts._  
  
 _With a turn of his back, (without even touching the wanton worshiper) left the room and vomited.  No, there was only one his body would accept.  There was only one that would ever grace his thoughts pleasantly.  He roared again in pure frustration and rage.  He had to have Eve and their son.  No one else would ever be enough.  Damn the witch._  
 _He began the search again.  There she was asking for forgiveness with their son as a peace offering.  The logic and heart began the vicious war within himself again.  Screaming he was sure he would loose his very sanity. Damn her!_  
  
Tenderly, he touched the place where his son nuzzled up to his mother.  Michael’s hand stilled when she began to stir whispering his name warmly.  Careful not to wake her, lays a hand on her brow hoping to see her thoughts.  They were just as tortured.    
  
_As Eve’s months progressed away from Michael’s last encounter, she began to realize maybe her fear of him had been justified.  But so was her passion for him.   As their son stirred, she couldn’t help but recall the passionate night.  It had been a fierce battle of wills with each other and with themselves.  She could feel his desire for her.  She had to agree, there was something more than his male verilness that was attractive._  
 _Michael brought out a strength Eve had nearly forgotten she had.  And yet his kisses weakened her further than she had ever been before.  Not even her husband could melt her this way._  
 _And when he showed up again just after birthing their offspring of pain and passion:  All those emotions slammed her at once.  Fear.  Desire. Need to flee.  Need to be encompassed.  Love and hate… was this heaven or hell?_  
  
Michael’s hand slipped away shaking.  
  
~~00~~~  
Two days and Michael hadn’t come to see her.  The guards brought her food and supplies without a word.  Always locking the door as they left.  
  
Curling around her growing son again, nurses him in his clean swaddling linens.  The door opens, but she ignores the person, focusing only on her son.  From the door way, he watches.  Mickhale grasps Eve’s littlest finger while gorging on his nectar.    
  
“It’s okay Mickhale.  Momma’s here.  You just grow strong like your Daddy.”  Now she looks up smiling to the brooding form in the doorway.  He doesn’t change his reaction to her smile, even though inside he is bristling.  Then his heart betrays his anger and accepts her smile.  
{I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.  I was wrong to …}  
The yellow eyes bore into her, kicking his heart aside.  Anger takes back over and projects back it’s feelings {How DARE you ask me for forgiveness!}  It was also directed at his own heart for feeling weak and wanting to take her back.  
Turning on one heal, thrusts his finger and orders at the guard, “She does NOT leave this room!”  The guard nods.  Michael leaves.  Eve’s emotions plummet clutching her son tighter.  
  
Later that afternoon Even wakes from her nap.  The first thing she notices is the little bundle of warmth and love is missing.  Jerking upright panic screams from all her senses.  Looking to the only entrance to the room, sighs.  Michael is cradling their son next to the door.  
Then a new feeling comes over her: dread with a hint of awe seeing him ever so tenderly rocking the miracle infant.  
“Michael…” her tone is slow and carefully not moving an inch from the bed, terrified she will flee with the baby leaving her alone again.  
Not looking at her, he remains fixated on what is in his arms, “I will not harm my son.”  
Once more she tries carefully, “What about his mother?”  Michael doesn’t answer or move, keeping his emotions blocked from her as well.  Eve tries again, “What am I to you?  A wet nurse?”  His swaying freezes.  
  
Taking a chance, rises to her feet.  Taking a couple steps forward, tries again, “Michael?”  He holds out a hand to stop her, but she doesn’t.  She walks her chest right into his hand.  Keeping her tone soft for the sake of the infant, tries once again.  Not just for the fragile infant, but for the fragile ground to their relationship.  “Look at us.  We don’t know each other.  We don’t trust each other.  We don’t even know ourselves.”  Michael says nothing just removing his hand to draw the infant tighter to his chest.  Not moving, she pushes the issue on, “Look at him.  What is going to happen to Mickhale?  Is he safer on a planet of ridicule and fear or a ship of war and hate?”    
  
Michael drops his block just a little to let her feel he is listening even if not responding. Eve stokes the child’s head, “Who is he safer with?  You a warrior king hunted and hunting?  Or me, barely able to protect herself?”  
  
Reaching a firm hand out, grasps her chin and hisses quietly to keep from disturbing the infant but letting the mother feel his full anger, “Why did you do this to me?!”  
Now she feels it.  His wall crumbles even though the grip is painful.  Now she understands: she broke him.  He had been in control.  The arrogant, smart and powerful foe to this galaxy and she had ruined him.  For so long he had dished out his resentment and anger against Wraith and Atlantian alike.  So used to being in control of his emotions and his life.  
  
But when she entered his life, he realized how little control he had over some insignificant emotions.  New emotions had also come to life.  But when had she broken through and entered his life?  Was it when she pounced him?  Was it when she tried to flee?  Was it when she ignited that passion the second time and he couldn’t resist?  Or was it when she bit him and his body rebelled against his rules and gave into her plead?  
Pulling his shirt aside at the shoulder, there it was.  In spite of his regenerative abilities, there it was.  The mark where she hand sunk her dull teeth into the ball of his shoulder stealing blood and seed from his body.  Like a tattoo, it was deep enough, it will forever remain.  
  
The baby is slipped into her arms and he slips from the room without another word.  She still doesn’t have any answers, but now she knows, neither does he.  
  
Later that night, Eve tries opening the door again.  Still locked.  No chance of breaking out.  Still standing there, too door opens.  He cocks a curious brow at her while she backs up, “Leaving?”  
At a reasonable distance, she holds her ground an speaks boldly, “Looking for you.”  
Searching her mind, “Why?”  
Crossing her arms, her tone becomes sincere, “Because, we need to talk.”    
Circling her asks again in the same tone, “Why?”  
“You and I are asking the same question.”    
Coming back to the door he leans against it, folding his arm.  Eve sinks to the bed, “Michael, why are you keeping me.  Why in this room?”  
“Trust,” he throws at her.  
“Who’s?  Yours or mine?” the tone mocks.  
Snarking back, “That wasn’t fair.”  
She flicks a finger to the locked door, “Oh and that is?”  
“You ran out on me last time when I was ready to talk.”  
  
She shrugs, “Alright.  Fine, I’ll go first.”  First she lays their sleeping son down.  This part of the conversation was not about him, just the couple.  Taking a breath looks right at the older male forever a part of her life weather he agrees or not.  
  
“Michael, I’m afraid of you,” he actually huffs a rueful smile.  Plunging on she gives him the other half, “On the other hand I want to be with you.”  He shows no reaction to her holding his telepathic block.  He has to, inside his mind is raging to touch her tenderly and soothe her.  
Pushing on, she narrows her gaze, “But I have to know: What am I to you?”  He tries to look away, personal wall crumbling.  She won’t give up now, “You have to be honest with me, because I am now.  I am not a spy.  Like I told you earlier, I am nobody.”  Her hands twist because he won’t look at her.  “I’m not a warrior, a mole, or an infiltrator.  I’m just an abandoned wife and schoolteacher with nothing.  I’m just trying to find a way to live.”  
  
Now for the dangerous part.  She drops her voice with the questions that could get her killed and her son motherless, “What are you?  Why are you making this war?  What are you going to do if you win?  How do you plan to live?  Do you really want all this?”  Slowly with each question his head had turned a little more to her.  Her last question was like knives, “Don’t you want peace?”  His head drops to focus on his boots.  
  
Running his hands through his hair, tries to gather his thoughts.  Eve was afraid he was going to bolt, again.  She feels him pull part of the block down.    
  
Confusion.  Mostly with himself but also with her.  Fear of her leaving him alone.  The words are whispered, “I knew what I wanted before I met you.  I knew what I was doing before you.  I knew everything before you.   I didn’t care for any one or any thing …. Before you.”  He looks to his sleeping innocent son, “And now Mickhale.”  
  
Finally he looks at her, “And you.”  As her desire to pull him close, wrapping her arms around him pulses, his gaze flits to the star filled window.  “You have destroyed everything.  You have scattered my plans, redirected my focus, shattered my ….”  He huffs a deep breath, “I’ve never had anyone in my heart or my mind and it need more, yet I need to purge you.”  Glancing back, “You have messed up my life.”  Back to the window, “I don’t know what I want.  I have no idea what I want to do with you or myself anymore.”   Another swipe through his hair, “I can’t plan any more.  I have only the here and now on my forefront.  I can’t think past holding you both and just watching you.  Feeling you both alive under my hands, tasting your lips…”  
  
With each word his wall to her fell.  Now, he was laid bare.  She held nothing back either.  He couldn’t move afraid of her trying to escape or worse, refuse him.    
  
Instead, Eve slowly stands up and comes to him.  He doesn’t move.  Curling a finger under his chin, lifts it and locks her hazel eyes to his yellow ones, “I had nothing before you.”   Slipping her arms around his chest, lays her head into the crook.  A huge sigh comes from him feeling her compassionate warmth surround and encompass him.  He gives it all back.  
  
{What are we going to do?} They both ask at the same time.  Instead of grief or confusion, amusement comes.  For the first time in a very long time they are thinking together.  Even if it was without direction.  
  
“Will you let us go?”  The question was not in her running or fleeing.  It was more of will he no longer see them as prisoners.  Will they be free to come and go?  She was unprepared for his answer.  
Pressing his forehead to hers he asks right into her soul, “Will you let me stay with you?”  
Curling a palms to his nape, pulls his lips to her hers answering the question.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
a/n Seeing how she was a bit of a mystery, I left it for your imagination to continue.  Besides, I hadn’t a clue where else to go with this.  I plan at least 2 more SG-A.  Marsh (for Major Scott Lorren) and Carly (I‘ll leave that as a surprise.)  They are a different style than these.     
 


End file.
